


Slave For You

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: Random SPN Porn Collection [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, DestielFFPrompt, First Time, M/M, Massage, bottom!Castiel, prince!Dean, slave!Castiel, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: Castiel is a slave in the royal palace. Being neither a concubine nor a pleasure slave, it is forbidden for him to covet a place in any royal’s bed. Especially not the bed of the Crown Prince... Dean has other ideas.





	Slave For You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the Facebook group Destiel Port (prompt found in end notes)

He carefully arranged the small graystone vials of massage oil on the shelf, having already emptied one into the warming pot. Each containing a unique blend of herbs, spices, and scented florals. Just the way the royal family liked them. The soft glow of the clay oil lamp near the small central bed-like table offered the only source of light in the room. Air vents connected to the hot springs under the palace kept the room nice and warm.

Castiel had lived and then worked within these palace walls his entire life. His mother was a concubine of the King’s harem. Stolen from her homeland as a result of conquest nearly two decades prior. Her belly was already swollen with pregnancy when she’d been brought back to the young King John. She had been permitted to nurse him for a few years before the King requested her presence in his bed. Since then, she’d produced two daughters and a son.

For Castiel, who carried no noble blood, he would spend his life in servitude. A slave by birth. With any luck, he’d be permitted to remain in the palace instead of sent to a far off land as part of a trade. His mother would live out her life here. Retiring to the life of a Matron, helping to care for future concubines and their children. He’d be glad to be so near her.

He adjusted the positions of the colourfully painted vials so they were evenly spaced, thinking. It was likely that the other three would be married off to foreign dignitaries in alliance settlements. And soon. Both his sisters had matured enough to bear children. Despite their illegitimacy, they still carried the blood of the King.

His head snapped to the side at the soft clank of the doors being pushed open. The Crown Prince’s personal attendant opened the door and bowed as the tall figure who followed entered. His Royal Highness dismissed him and the attendant bowed once more before closing the door, leaving Castiel alone with the Prince.

Castiel hung the Prince’s robe on a hook near the door, fingers gliding along the smooth, silky fabric before his attention returned to His Royal Highness. The man lay on his front on the table, and Castiel snatched up the small, thin towel and quickly draped it over His Highness’... particular nakedness, averting his eyes as much as he could to avoid staring at that area of royal skin. His face heated up and he swallowed as quietly as he could. Ever careful not to alert His Highness of any... _special_ interest of the Prince’s person.

Slicking his hand in the warmed oil the Prince had requested, Castiel began to work on relaxing the man’s muscles.

He’d never admit it. Not aloud. He enjoyed these sessions, with the Crown Prince. Oiled skin shining under the gentle light of the lamp as his Prince lay stretched out before him. Strong, muscled body shaped from daily weapons training. Castiel’s hands sliding along chiseled curves, working the oil into every inch of the man’s skin, following the trails of freckles that dusted his princely body. Massaging tension from his arms and legs. Chasing the stress from his shoulders and neck. Kneading the knots from his smooth back. The thin cotton towel, barely more than a scrap of fabric, hiding the the naked skin of that perfectly rounded royal ass...

Castiel takes a soft, shuddering breath. No. He cannot let his mind stray there. It is forbidden. His traitorous eyes trail along the beautiful form laid out before him...

_No._

This is the Prince. _The_ Prince. The Crown Prince. And Castiel may be the child of a concubine, but he was not one himself. And he was not a pleasure slave. He enjoyed none of the luxuries that came with either position.

He was a domestic slave. Assigned to serve the younger males of the royal family in a specific function. He massaged away work and stress tightened muscles of the Princes when it was wished, and washed away dirt and grime from their bodies as they bathed when it was requested. Any other attentions to their persons would have him killed.

The Prince shifted. Pushing his torso up to balance on his forearms, head tilted to look back at him. He realized too late that his sigh had been audible. His throat went dry and he pulled back his trembling hands. His Highness turned onto his back, the small covering nearly falling off his lap. Such thin fabric doing nothing to hide the hardness of his thick cock.

The Prince’s eyes bored into Castiel’s. Royal green clashing with enslaved blue. He stared into him, searching for something Castiel couldn’t fathom. Time sped up to a dizzying speed, simultaneously slowing until it came to an eerie standstill. They lived eons in a moment. In his chest, his own heart thrummed and thudded. Heat pooling in his stomach, trickling down to pool in his own arousal.

Fear and yearning warred in him.

This was the Crown Prince. One wrong move and he would die. Shamefully and publicly.

His Prince’s pouty lips tugged to the side in a lazy smile as he relaxed onto his back, eyes still on Castiel. “Would you like to ride my cock, Slave?”

Castiel gulped, trembling increasing as his vision momentarily dimmed. Would he like to...? _Yes._

The man’s smile turned wicked. “Then climb on,” he drawled.

Castiel’s breath hitched. He’d answered out loud. What... what should he do? He bit his lip.

The Prince pushed himself up to sit and held out a hand to him. “Come to me, Slave.” With only a breath’s hesitation, Castiel reached out to take it. “That’s it, my little sweet.” He pulled Castiel closer, wrapping and arm around his waist. “Gods, you’re so beautiful.” His Highness’ hot breath ghosted along Castiel’s lips followed by a press.

By the gods... he was _kissing_ the Crown Prince!

Strong hands worked to remove his clothing, letting the fabric pool at his feet. “Climb up and straddle me.” He complied immediately, pulse rapid. The Prince reached into the warming pot, coating his fingers in oil. “Tell me, Slave. Has anyone had your gorgeous body?” He ran a slick finger again’s the puckered entrance of Castiel’s ass. “Have you ever had the pleasure of a cock fucking your tight little ass?”

Castiel’s face heated. “N-no, Highness.” He shook his head, wanting to look away from his Prince but unable to. “N-no one. Ever.”

The man nodded. “Good.” He slid a finger in, expression turning hard and possessive. “No one else ever will.” He pulled Castiel into a searing kiss as he worked the slave’s virgin ass open. Stifling the strangled moans he coaxed out of the younger man when he massaged that pleasure point inside.

Castiel whined with the fingers were removed. _“H-Highness...”_

The Prince chuckled. “You’re about to have my cock in your ass, sweet one. You will call me Dean.” He grinned wickedly again and leaned in close to Castiel’s ear. “And you will call it over, and over again. I promise.”

Castiel shuddered in anticipation. A warm, blunt object pressed against his stretched hole.

“Take me in.”

Castiel bit his lip and slowly lowered himself onto Dean’s hot, thick cock. It stretched him open further, a slow burn as he seated himself fully on his Prince.

Dean laid back onto the table, groaning in satisfaction. His hands ran up Castiel’s thick thighs, coming to rest on his defined hips. “Now, Slave. Ride my cock like you’ve always wanted.”

“Castiel.”

“Excuse me?”

Castiel swallowed. He simply couldn’t control his mouth tonight. “M-my name, Highness.”

Dean snorted, amused. A tender emotion shone in his eyes. “ _Cas_. I believe I told you to address me as Dean.”

Castiel felt warm, hearing his name on his Prince’s lips. _”Dean.”_ He lifted his hips, feeling the drag of Dean’s cock along his rim, and lowered back down. Again… again… One hand on Dean’s wrist, the other balancing on the man’s broad chest. He rode the Prince’s cock until his thighs trembled. Faster. Harder. His head dropped back, exposing his neck. Wanton moans vibrating in this throat. His inner thighs slick and sliding against Dean’s oiled skin. He leaned forward, both hands braced on the table on either side of Dean’s head. His thighs burning and his lungs gasping for a air. All the while the low, sound of Dean’s voice uttering sweet vulgarities and praise filled his ears. And, just as promised, he called his Prince’s name, chanting it like a prayer.

His whole body stuttered and his balls drew up as he came. Thick, white splatters covered Dean’s royal chest.

“That’s it, Beautiful.” He grasped Castiel’s hips and thrust upwards in quick snaps. Skin slapping on skin until… Castiel watched as his Prince tossed his head back and came inside him, back arching of the table.

Castiel’s limbs gave out and he laid on top of Dean… The Crown Prince… Whose still hard cock was buried inside Castiel. Dean’s arms wrapped securely around him, holding him close until his softened cock slipped free. Dean maneuvered them until Castiel was lying on the table and stood, picking up the discarded towel and wiping both their chests clean.

“I meant what I said, Cas.” Dean said and tossed the towel aside. “No one else will _ever_ have you.” He pulled on his robe, fastening the tie before picking up Castiel’s clothing and helping the shaky slave into them with care. “You know, I wondered if you’d correct me.” He smirked at the way Castiel squinted his eyes and tilted his head. “When I didn’t use your name.” Castiel ducked his head, averting his eyes for a moment. They stared at one another again. Dean’s eyes turned tender once more. “My father has decided it’s time for me to begin building my own harem. I’ve chosen you as First Concubine.”

Castiel was shocked. It was customary for male royals to begin building their harems when they reached their twenty-fifth year. The Winchester royals never married. It was political. Marriage must always be seen as an option. However, they typically chose their first concubines from their pleasure slaves. To be _the_ First Concubine… There was more than one pleasure slave that Castiel knew had coveted the position. As such, he would hold the highest rank in Dean’s harem for the rest of his life.

He tried to stand but is tired legs gave out. He was scooped up into His Highne— _Dean’s_ arms and carried to the Prince’s personal chambers. Dean lay with him on the large, plush bed.

Society will call him a concubine. History, will call him a husband.

**Author's Note:**

> The last line is a play on a quote from “Dune” by Frank Herbert
> 
> \- - - - - - -
> 
> Prompt by Jen-knee Addison on Destiel Port on FB:
> 
> _His oiled skin shinning under the dim table lamp, Dean is lay on his front.. Bare ass covered only by a small towel as Castiel works the oil in to every inch of his skin.. kneading him like dough, rubbing over his stress knotted shoulders.. running his slippery hands down Dean's broad and freckled back.._
> 
> _Castiel takes in the sight of him, so beautiful.. so.. forbidden.. Dean the prince.. and him.. his slave.. He'd be killed before he was ever allowed to.. He sighed, realising to late, he'd sighed out loud._
> 
> _Dean shifted.. tilting his head to look round at Castiel.. He turns over on the table, the small towel doing nothing to hide his throbbing cock.._
> 
> _Dean looks in to Castiel's eyes for what seems like years.. Castiel can feel his own arousal.. but he is also fearful.. this is the prince.. he could have him killed..._
> 
> _Dean smiles laying his head back on the massage table "Would you like to ride my cock? Slave?"_


End file.
